


I'll Be There

by In_love_with_too_many_fandoms



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Death, Love, M/M, Sad, Trigger Warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 01:06:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4857380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_love_with_too_many_fandoms/pseuds/In_love_with_too_many_fandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has always been there for Sherlock. Whenever he needed help, John was always there for him. Now, when tragedy strikes John, Sherlock has to be the strong one and help John through this difficult time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"John!" My wife called out to me. "I'm going out!"

"Where are you going, dear?" I asked in response. 

"Just going out with some friends. Judie has found another boyfriend. She wants me and Aliya to meet him."

"Another boyfriend!? How many does this make for this month?" 

"I believe four," the consulting detective piped up. He came down the hallway and into the main room. 

I raised my eyebrows in shock at his comment. I didn't think he paid attention to when I spoke, let alone Mary. Granted, he does remember a lot more of what Mary says. 

"Let's see.." Sherlock began to drum his fingers against his chin. "There was Sal, the sleazy pizza shop owner. Derek, the goody-two shoes who thought he was always right. Believe me, he wasn't. Frank, the guy who's name and body resembled a gigantic hot dog. Now, we have..." Sherlock was waiting for Mary to say the fourth guy's name. 

"Jeffrey." 

"Sounds like the name of a giraffe if you ask me," Sherlock proclaimed. "Tell me if he has a long neck."

Mary just laughed. "Will do." She crossed over to the side of the room I was on. She gave me a kiss on my forehead. I gave her a quick little kiss on the lips as she lowered her head. 

"I'm going to a pub on the other side of London. It's not in walking distance so I'll be taking a cab." Mary pulled a couple of Pounds out of her small clutch. "I think this should cover it."

I glanced up from my computer quickly. "Looks like it's enough," I said with a little more force than I had intended to. I quickly went back to the blog post I was updating.

I was concerned that Mary wasn't saying anything. I moved my gaze up towards my wife. Mary was looking down. She seemed upset; most likely because of the way I had spoken to her.

"I'm sorry, Mary." I reached for her arm but she backed away from me. 

"I'll just be on my way." Mary walked to the door and opened it. She looked back at me. I could see a tinge of sadness clouding in her eyes. She walked out of the doorway, slamming the door behind her in the process. 

"Damn it!" I shouted. 'I fucked up. I fucked up bad.' I even knew she was in a bad mood today. My tone and attitude didn't help her. I could be so useless at times. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid!'

"You okay, John?" It was at that moment that I knew, Sherlock was still in the room. He had seen all of the recently occurring events. I placed my face in my hands.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied. 

There was still a lot of tension in the air. I looked back at my computer and stated at all of the pop up ads. There was one for a sale on crew socks, a sale on organic and natural food, and deals on a television. 

"Hey Sherlock," I said, keeping my eyes trained on the television ad. "Do you think we should get a television?" I motioned for him to come over here. 

He crossed the room and moved to stand behind me. He studied the ads for a good couple of minutes. "Well, I do see something that will be useful." He pointed towards the left hand side of my computer screen. "I need some crew socks. Two packages for ten dollars is a pretty good deal."

All I could do was sigh. "But what about the television, Sherlock?"

"I need socks. Two packages for ten dollars. That's a pretty good deal!"

"Sherlock! Seriously, we should get a television. We'd get news faster. The cases don't always come to us. Sometimes, we need to go to the cases."

"And sometimes we really need to get socks."

At that point, I was furious. I closed my laptop and stood up. 

"Where are you going John?" Sherlock asked me. 

I didn't answer him. I just walked into my bedroom and shut the door behind me, locking it.

The most important person in my life is mad at me. Now, I am mad at my best friend. I'm stuck in the middle of an anger triangle.


	2. Two

After three hours of solitude, one and a half of those hours consisting of a nap, I decided to finally come out of my bedroom. It wasn't a very long time of solitude, but I felt bad. I shouldn't have flipped out on Sherlock like that. All he wanted was socks. 

I slowly sat up from my bed. I had just woken up from my nap and felt like I needed to take another one. 

I stood up and crossed over to the other side of my bedroom. I unlocked the door and opened it. Stepping outside of my room, I glanced towards either side of my door way. There seemed to be no one in the flat. 

"Sherlock?" I called out into the hallway. There was no reply. I walked out of the hallway and into the living room.

"Sherlock?" I called out again. There was still no answer. I shrugged it off. Maybe he was just sleeping. I glanced towards the clock. It was 9:15 PM. Maybe he went to bed early?

I crossed the room to the area where I had been sitting earlier this evening. I picked up my computer and sat down in the seat.   
Flipping open the lid of my laptop, I went back to what I was typing up. I was in the middle of a blog post. Obviously it was about Sherlock. However, what I started writing about him was odd. It was definitely different. 

I was writing about him in a new light. A way in which I had never written about him before. It was a way that almost seemed... Romantic.

The way I was describing his face, the way he walked, the way he acted. It was as if I had romantic feelings towards this consulting detective. 

I quickly shrugged the thought off. Of course I didn't love Sherlock. Maybe in a friendly manner, but my heart belongs to Mary.

I quickly deleted everything I had typed. I don't even know how that had gotten on there. I shook my head, trying to shake out the thoughts. It didn't seem to be working.   
I glanced at the clock again. It read 9:27.   
I placed my computer on the small table to my left. I closed the lid of my laptop and stood up. I was way too curious about whether or not Sherlock was home. I had to figure it out.

I walked out of the main room and down the small hallway. I turned to face the closed door that leads to the consulting detective's bedroom. He told me never to go in there, but I wouldn't technically be breaking the rules if I only stuck my head in the doorway. 

I grasped the door knob and ever so slowly, turned it towards the right. The door began to open with a small squeak. I quickly understood just what a bad idea this was. I pushed the door open a little bit more. It continued to squeak. 

Luckily, it was at the point where I could poke my head through. I looked through the crack. 

He wasn't in his bedroom. All I could see was his neatly made bed. I heard the front door open and I jumped. I quickly closed the door and ran down the hallway.

False alarm; it was Mrs. Hudson. 

"Sherlock?" The frail, old woman called out. "John? Is anyone home?"

I walked down the hallway and saw Mrs. Hudson standing in the doorway. "I'm here Mrs. Hudson," I proclaimed. 

Seeing that I was home, she walked out of the doorway and shut the door behind her. She walked into the main room and sat down on the couch. She looked a little uncomfortable. 

"Is everything okay, Mrs. Hudson?" I asked, sitting down in a chair relatively close to the couch. 

"Yes, I'm fine. It's you and Sherlock I'm worried about." Mrs. Hudson glanced down at her hands clasped in her lap.

"Me and Sherlock? Why?"

"I haven't seen the two of you in a while. I wanted to see how the two of you were doing."

"I'm fine. How are you doing?" There was a lot of awkward tension. I could tell that Mrs. Hudson could feel it too. 

"I'm very well. So how's your wife?"

"She's fine. Why do you ask?" I was starting to get confused and a little bit concerned. I didn't no where these questions were going. 

"That's good. How's Sherlock?"

Luckily, I didn't have to answer that question. Right as Mrs. Hudson asked the question, Sherlock came barreling into the flat. In his hands he held a large box and a much smaller package in a bag.

On the box, it showed a picture of a television screen.


	3. Three

"Hello John," the consulting detective greeted me. He placed the box down on the floor and put the bag on top of it. "Good evening Mrs. Hudson."

"Well it looks like you two have stuff to talk about," Mrs. Hudson said, rising. "I'll talk to you tomorrow." She headed towards the door. It was still open from when Sherlock came in. She walked out of the doorway and shut the door behind her.

"Where did you go?" I asked him. I was still dumbfounded.

"Out," Sherlock responded simply. He plopped down on the couch and sighed. "I'm bored."

"Where did you go?" I asked again.

"I already told you, out."

"Could you be a little bit more specific?" I was trying to keep the anger out of my tone. I didn't want Sherlock to get mad at me. I certainly didn't want him thinking I was mad at him. 

The consulting detective sighed again. "I went out to the department store. I saw the ad for the socks and just had to get more. I remember you saying something about wanting a television, so I got one of those as well."

I was stunned. I don't expect Sherlock to listen to me, let alone pay attention. 

"Are you serious? This isn't a joke right? I'm not dreaming?"

Sherlock stood up and walked over to me. He pinched my arm. "You're not dreaming."

I rubbed my upper arm. He pinches pretty hard. "Why did you buy the television?"

Sherlock sat down and sighed. "If you don't want it, I can go return it."

"No, no, no! I didn't mean it like that. I'm just curious."

"You seemed a little upset and stressed out. You left the room without your computer. I opened it up and it went to the log in screen. By the way, you might want to change your password to something more secure. 'Mary' is pretty vulnerable."

"Wait a minute, how do you know my password!?" If he logged onto the computer, that means he saw what I was doing before hand. He must have read that blog post! I felt my face heat up and I knew it was all red. I wasn't going to bring it up. I ignored it and just waited for Sherlock to continue to speak again.

"John, you're very predictable. You choose something simple, so you can remember it. That also means it can be very simple to hack into. Plus, I've walked past you multiple times as you type it in. I do have eyes."

"Well I guess I'm going to change it then. Something more secure." I smiled as I said that. I couldn't help it. A grin just grew across my face. 

"That's the spirit!" Surprisingly, Sherlock had a smile across his face as well. I was confused by Sherlock's sudden change in mood. It was a very good change though.

"So, now what?" I asked, unsure of what to say next.

Sherlock's smile grew a little wider. "How about you help me set up this TV? Or should I go back to the store and return it?"

"Ill help you." I stood up and walked over to the television box. "Let's start reading the instructions."

-

An hour and a half later, we finally got the television set up. It probably would have taken a shorter amount of time, had it not been for Sherlock practically screaming at the company. Luckily, everything got set up with only a few technical difficulties.

"Would you like to do the honors?" Sherlock asked, holding out the remote.

"Why not." I grabbed the remote out of Sherlock's larger hands. I pressed the power button, creating a light glow that emanated from the television.

"It works!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"I thought you didn't need a television," I said sarcastically. 

"I didn't then. Now be quiet and turn on the news."

I flipped through the channels until the local news turned on. Sherlock and I sat down on the couch, getting ready to find a case. There was a breaking news story about a recent car crash. I raised the volume on the television, making the sound to an audible level.

"A bystander claimed that he heard gunshots before the cab slammed into the light pole," the newswoman claimed. "There is reason to believe this person was targeted. There were two casualties in this crash. The driver and the passenger died on impact. The driver was fifty one year old Dante Freeman. The passenger was thirty nine year old Mary Watson."


	4. Four

A photo of Mary came up onto the screen. It was a very recent photo of her. Her blonde hair was cropped close to her face. She had a pink lip gloss on her lips. The way she did her mascara made her eyes look more blue than gray. She looked so lively in the picture. Unlike now. She's probably in the back of an ambulance, heading who knows where for who knows what. 

There were so many questions buzzing through my head. Why didn't anyone tell me? Why didn't the hospital call me? Why wasn't I aware of what happened? Why did I have to learn about the death of my wife through the news? Did her friends know what happened?

My head was starting to pound. I stared at the television screen. The news story was over. The weather came on. Every day this week is supposed to be sunny. 'Oh the irony,' I thought to myself.

All of a sudden, the screen went black. I turned to face Sherlock. He was holding the remote in his hands. He must have taken it away without me realizing.

"John, I..." Sherlock started. 

"Don't," I said, cutting him off. 

"John, I'm sorry-"

"You don't know what it's like!" I shouted. Tears started streaming down my face. "What it's like to loose someone that you cared about so much! Someone you loved! Someone you can't bare to loose!"

As I said it, I realized I shouldn't have. He knows exactly what it's like. He lost his best friend as a child, his dog, Red Beard. Who knows if he lost anyone else. 

Sherlock immediately looked very upset. I knew I had hit struck at a soft spot. "I'm sorry Sherlock." It was the only thing I actually could say. I didn't know what to do.

Sherlock waited a few moments before responding. "It's fine John."

I was shocked. I had expected him to scream in my face. He responded so calmly. I didn't understand. 

The shock must have shown on my face. Sherlock began to clarify the confusion I was feeling. "You're feeling pain John. I understand. You're just taking it out on me."

After hearing that, I had to get out of the room. I couldn't hurt Sherlock. I couldn't stand to think of the fact that I was hurting him. 

I stood up and ran into a wall. That wasn't intentional. Getting out of the room was. 

"John!" I heard Sherlock scream. All of a sudden, Sherlock was standing over me. "Are you okay?"

At that point, I had to get out of the room. I could feel tears start to spring up in the corners of my eyes. No, it was not from the impact of the wall.

My feelings were catching up on me. I stood up again and ran. I could tell Sherlock was calling me back. I wasn't going back. I wasn't going to hurt him.

I ran into the bathroom. I shut the door behind me. My emotions were intertwining. I didn't know how to feel. 

'My wife is dead,' I thought to myself. 'Mary is dead.' It didn't seem real. Yes, everyone is going to die. But Mary and I had lives to live. 

We were going to have children. We were going to start a family. We were going to buy a house. We were going to grow old together. 

I wiped away the tears that were slowly falling. I walked over to the medicine cabinet. I took out the pain relief pills.

'Could I really go through with this?' I thought to myself. 'Could I really kill myself?'

'Yes.'


	5. Five

I clutched the pill bottle tighter in my hand. I shook it, trying to see how many there were by sound. It made a pretty loud rattle. There were at least thirty pills. 

I twisted open the cap and looked into the bottle. I saw the small blue pills. Soon, they wouldn't be residing in the bottle. They'd make a new home in my digestive track.

I poured the pills into my cupped hand. About ten pills fell into my hand. It seemed like it would do the job.

I leaned against the door and stared at my hand. 'I'm going to do this. I will do this.'

I heard a knock on the door. The only person it could be was Sherlock. Shit. "John," he said from the other side. "Are you okay? You've been in there for a while."

"Yeah," I said. My voice sounded a little shaky. "I'm fine."

I placed the pill bottle on the floor. I was shaking so much, that I placed it on the ground unevenly. The small pills spilled out, causing them to clatter on the tile floor.

"John..."

I stared at the pills in my hand. I started raising them to mouth. They almost reached my mouth, but they were knocked out. Or should I say, I was knocked out of the way. Sherlock opened the door with such strength, I didn't know his body contained such strength.

"John!" Sherlock shouted. "Are you insane!? What were you thinking!?"

"I was thinking that I want to be with Mary." I looked towards Sherlock. His expression was undistinguishable. I looked back to the ground. I couldn't face him. 

"John, why?" I could hear the concern in his voice. 

"I can't live without her." I could hear my voice starting to break. 

"John, you have so many people here to support you through this. You're not here alone." Sherlock sounded hurt.

"But I need Mary! She understands me! She would know how to help me through this!"

"John." Sherlock gingerly placed a hand on my shoulder. I didn't know he was crouching down. "You still have your friends. You have me, Mrs. Hudson, Anderson." Under his breath he muttered. "Even if he is an ignorant, idiot bastard."

A small smile crept onto my face. I immediately wiped it away. How could I be smiling? My wife just died! I can't be smiling at a time like this. "That's very true." Thankfully, the enthusiasm left my voice. 

"So John," Sherlock started. "Are you okay now?"

"I think so." I responded. In my head, different words spoke. 'For now.'

"Good. Now, how about getting some sleep? You've had a very long day."

"Probably. Thanks, Sherlock."

"Of course John." It was at that moment, that I realized Sherlock's hand was still on my shoulder. He must have noticed it too, for he quickly moved his hand away. 

Sherlock stood up and walked to stand in front of me. I stared up at his face, then moved my gaze to his outstretched hand.

"It's fine. I got it." I got out of my cross legged position and put my feet and hands on the floor. I pushed up with my hands and held my ground with my feet. 

"Okay. Just figured I'd offer assistance." 

"Thank you, Sherlock."

I walked out of the bathroom with Sherlock close behind me. I took the very short walk to my bedroom from the bathroom. I turned to face Sherlock. He almost walked straight into me. I shook my head and ignored it.

"Good night, Sherlock. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, John."

I walked into my bedroom. I flopped down on my bed and took my shoes off. I slid off my bed and pushed my shoes under it. When the left shoe didn't fit all the way, I quickly went to investigate the road block. 

I reached a hand out and felt a wooden box that was pushed up against the wall. I immediately remembered the box and it's contents. I hadn't touched it in years. 

I left the shoe where it was and quickly scrambled into my bed. I burrowed myself under the covers and stared at the ceiling. 

I knew I wasn't going to fall asleep that night, and I was right. All I could think about was the wooden box. I feel like I will probably be needing it's contents very soon.


	6. Six

*Trigger warning for this chapter*

 

Finally, the sun was breaking through the dark sky. It was a relief. I knew Sherlock would be up soon. My thoughts were beginning to scare me. 

I glanced over to the alarm clock sitting on my nightstand. It was 5:05. Sherlock usually wakes up around 5:30.

'Crap,' I thought to myself. 'I can't deal with this for five more minutes!'

My thoughts were getting darker by the hour. I can't stand being without Mary. I need her here. I need her here with me. Now.

The only person I could truly confide in was Mary. Sherlock is a close second, and that's saying a lot. 

The last time I told him something important that was going on in my life, he tried to turn me into a giant experiment. 

I feel like I need to tell someone about this. How I'm feeling. How bad my thoughts are getting, but I just can't. I'm the one who remains strong for everyone else. If the strong one breaks, who else will there be to turn to?

I looked back to the alarm clock. It read 5:08. 'Fuck. I can't be strong anymore. I just can't do it.'

I dropped down from my bed to the floor. I tried to make the least amount of noise as possible. Sherlock is a very light sleeper. 

I accidentally stepped on a creaky board, but it didn't make too much noise. I wiped away the bead of sweat that was beginning to form on my brow. 

Slowly, I put myself into a position where I could reach the box. I reached out to touch it. I felt the wooden box against the tip of my fingers and slowly pulled it towards me. 

I could finally see the box in it's entirety. I brushed my hand against my initials, which were engraved into the box. 

I held my breath and lifted the lid. I could see the glint of metal inside. I pulled out one of the blades. 

'I can't be strong anymore. I'm sorry Mary. I'm so sorry.'

I took the blade and dragged it along my exposed wrist. Blood started to appear. It wasn't deep enough for it to be gushing, but deep enough to break skin. 

The last time I cut was five years ago. I'm starting to travel down the path of bad habits again. 

I dragged the blade against my skin again, this time going a little deeper. The blood started to drip down my wrist and dropped down to my pants. I didn't care, I was just going to change them soon anyways.

"John," I heard a deep voice from the hallway say. "What do you think your doing?"


	7. Seven

'Fuck me with a cactus dildo,' I thought to myself. 'Of all the times for Sherlock to catch me doing something I shouldn't be, I'd take all of those times and multiply it by ten. This can't be happening.'

"John," he said again, louder and more aggressively. "What are you doing?"

I sighed and turned around to face the door. Sherlock was standing in the doorway, just as I suspected. 

I tried to speak, but my throat closed up. I didn't know what to say without causing Sherlock to get angrier.

"John, why would you do this? Why would you take this path again?" Sherlock stared at me with those big, green eyes. 

I looked down at my dripping arm. It was better than staring at Sherlock. I couldn't handle the look he was giving me. I couldn't stare at his sad eyes. 

"I became too weak." It was all I could muster at the moment. The blood was starting to drip down and hit my pants and the floor. A metallic smell filled the room.

"John, don't send yourself back into this downward spiral. I was there for you last time. I'm here for you this time."

"BULLSHIT!" I shouted at him. "You used my depression for research! All I was was your little test subject! Until I met Mary, I truly felt happy! She was the one who always there for me!"

"John, come here." Sherlock stayed glued to the doorway.

"Why would I do that? I don't want to turn into another experiment. Maybe you should leave, so you don't get tempted." I was on the verge of tears. I'm acting like such a prick to Sherlock. 

I looked up. Sherlock was still rooted in the doorway. "I'm not going away John. I'm here to help." 

"Are you sure about that? Are you sure I won't become-" I never finished my sentence. I was silenced by a blur of movement that stopped right in front of me. Sherlock knelt down and we were face to face, but only for a second. In the blink of an eye, Sherlock raised his left hand and slapped me across the face.

"What the hell was that for!?" I yelled right into his face. Sherlock didn't even flinch. 

"It's your first wake up call."

"First one?" I asked, concerned as to what might follow. 

"Yes. Here's the second one." Sherlock grabbed my sliced open wrist and pulled me upright. I held back a yelp of pain. He had a very tight grip on my wrist and it was stinging.

"Are you okay?" Sherlock asked me. The pain must have been visible on my face. 

"No. Not at all."

"That's what I thought." Sherlock, still with his grip on my arm, led me out of my bedroom and into my bedroom.

Sherlock pulled me into the room and shut the door behind me. He closed the lid on the toilet and looked at me. "Sit." 

I did as he said. He reached into the cabinet underneath the sink and grabbed bandages, cotton balls and peroxide.

"This might sting a little bit." Sherlock began putting some peroxide on the cotton. He then started to clean my cuts.

"Ow, ow, ow! That stings Sherlock!" I tried to pull my arm away from Sherlock's grasp. All it did was land me with another slap. This time, on the arm.

"If you keep struggling, it'll only make it worse." Sherlock just stayed focus on cleaning my wounds.

"Why are you being nice to me?" I asked, my curiosity suddenly getting the better of me.

"I'm trying to be a good friend. I want to help you." Sherlock put some more peroxide on the cotton ball. He continued to clean my cuts. It still stung.

"But why all of a sudden? Why this sudden burst of kindness?"

Sherlock stopped and put the coton ball on the counter. He looked me straight in the eye. "John, your wife just died. What do you expect me to do, leave you all alone?" He paused for a moment. "Plus, you do whatever you can for those you love."

I was in shock. "You mean, like platonic love? Just friends?"

Sherlock sighed. "No John, I actually like you. I thought these feelings would disappear when you met Mary, but all it did was make me jealous."

"Sherlock, I don't know what to say."

He took a step towards me. "Then don't say anything at all." He leaned in a little too close. There was no denying what he was trying to accomplish. A second later, our lips had met.


	8. Eight

I was in utter shock at the events that were occurring. My eyes were wide with shock. A look of surprise must have been plastered all over my face. 

I pulled my head back quickly. I went a little too far. I bashed the back of my head into the wall.

"Ow!" I shouted. 

"What did you do that for?" Sherlock asked me.

"I could ask you the same question!" I responded.

Sherlock just blushed. 

"Well?" I asked. 

"I don't know. Heat of the moment?" Sherlock said. His blush was starting to darken in color. He exited the room. 

"What was that all about?" I asked myself. 

I rubbed the back of my head. "I hope it doesn't swell up." 

The one question that kept running through my head was why. Why did he kiss me? Why did Mary die? Why did Sherlock kiss me the day after Mary died? Why did I pull away?

I thought back to how I felt whenever Mary kissed me. Lately, I didn't feel anything. The usual spark between us was gone. 

Now, after I just kissed Sherlock, I found where the missing spark went. His lips were soft and there was just the right amount of pressure between my lips and his. 

"I can't be thinking like this! Mary just died! I'm in mourning, not finding someone else! I'm not ready to enter the dating scene!"

There were two sides of me. One side, the angel you may call it, was telling me the right thing. I should mourn over Mary's death. I'm not ready to date anyone yet. 

However, the other side, or the devil, was telling me the wrong thing. I should ask out Sherlock. I should kiss him again and again and again. If I start dating again, it will keep my mind off of Mary. 

I didn't know which side I should listen to. I was slowly starting to lean towards the devilish side.

"But I can't!"

"You can, you just choose not to!"

"SHUT UP!" I shouted. 

I heard footsteps pounding towards me. The door was wrenched open and Sherlock's mop of black hair appeared in the doorway. 

"John?" Sherlock asked. He sounded nervous. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," I responded. "Just..." My voice faltered. If I told him what was actually going through my mind, he'd think I'm crazy!

"What, John? What is it?"

"I was just thinking. My thoughts were getting a little crazy. Sorry if I bothered you."

"Don't apologize. You're fine John."

"Okay." I looked down at the ground.

"Hey John, guess what?"

"What?"

I just got off of the phone. Hurry up. Go get dressed. We're going out tonight."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see soon enough. Just make sure you're dressed nicely." Sherlock exited the bathroom. 

I got up off of the toilet seat I was sitting on. I exited the bathroom, feeling more confused than any. I had no idea what Sherlock was planning. Frankly, I wasn't sure if I wanted to know.


	9. Eight

I woke up in a pool of sweat. The nightmares were getting to me again. I removed the blankets off of me. I sat up and looked at the clock. It is 3:30. 

'Sherlock said he had a surprise planned,' I thought to myself. 'He never specified the time.' I shrugged and walked to the linen closet. 'There's probably enough time to shower.' I grabbed a towel and closed the closet door. 

I walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I stripped off my sweaty clothes and left them on the bathroom floor. 

I walked to the shower and turned on the water to a hot setting. I got in and stood there for a couple of minutes, allowing the water to hit my skin. 

Right as I picked up the shampoo bottle, someone charged there way into the bathroom. It was Sherlock. "John! What are you doing?" He sounded concerned and rushed. 

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm taking a shower!" I thought for a moment about my response. "That doesn't make it okay for you to pull away the shower curtain and look, just so you know!" 

"There isn't enough time! We have to get going!" He hesitated before continuing. "And I wasn't even thinking about that." He didn't sound too sure of himself. 

"What do you mean by 'there isn't enough time'? It's only 3:30."

Sherlock was silent for a few minutes. At first, I thought he left. I wasn't able to hear his breathing over the water. It was still pelting my skin, and it was slowly starting to burn. I lowered the temperature a little bit. As I did, Sherlock spoke again. "Oh. I thought it was 4:30. Forgive me. I'll be wait in the living room. Just do me a favor, John, don't take all day in the shower." With that, he left. 

'Well that was odd,' I thought to myself. 'Even odder than usual, and that's saying a lot.'

He's usually so spot on with time. It's not like him to be so nervous and rushed. I looked at the shampoo bottle that was still in my clutch. Opening up the cap, I poured a good amount into my hand and worked it into my hair.

The shampoo/water concoction was starting to slide it's way down my face. As I was working it into my hair, some of it hit my wrist. I suppressed a small yelp of pain. It stung, a lot. I just kept powering through. 

I grabbed the bar of soap. I rubbed the soap all over my body, getting rid of the grime covering it that accumulated over the past couple of days. 

I watched the lather wash off. I stood in the water for a couple more minutes before finally shutting off the water. I pulled the shower curtain away, and Sherlock Holmes was staring straight at me. 

"AH!" I screamed, at the sight of him. I frantically searched for my towel but I couldn't find it. I could've sworn I left it on the counter. 

"Looking for this?" Sherlock produced the towel from behind his back. He tossed it at me and I caught it. I rapidly wrapped it around my lower half. 

"What are you doing in here!?" I was so embarrassed that Sherlock saw me naked, and I had absolutely no idea why. I could feel a blush in my cheeks. 

"I forgot to tell you, you need to dress in your best outfit." Sherlock gestured to his own outfit. He was wearing a black suit that fit him nicely. 

He spun around and exited the bathroom. I glanced at the floor. My clothes were gone. Sherlock must have taken care of them. 

I stepped out of the shower and exited the bathroom. I made my way to my bedroom. There was a suit laid out on my bed. 'I can take a hint, Sherlock.' I dropped the towel and changed into the black suit waiting for me on my bed. 

I put on my black dress shoes and exited the bedroom. I made my way to the main sitting area. Sherlock was waiting for me on the couch. When he saw me, he stood up. 

He walked right up to me. When we were about two inches away, Sherlock spoke the eight words I thought I would never hear from the consulting detective. "John Watson, will you be my date tonight?"


	10. Ten

The flash of a camera relieved me of my shock. I looked to the source of the flash. Mrs. Hudson was standing behind a camera, her finger on the button to take the photo.

"Hello dearies," she said. "When Sherlock told me that he was going to take you out on a date tonight, I had to get a picture! I knew you two would get together, and I had to get a picture of the momentous occasion. I always knew Sherlock liked you John. When that girl came into your life, I knew she would be nothing but trouble. But now, everything is back together. The world is right again."

I hated the way Mrs. Hudson was talking about Mary. However, I did feel as though this was somewhat right, so I just kept my mouth shut. Sherlock had already started talking before I could say anything. 

"Well, Mrs. Hudson, it was nice seeing you, but we really need to get going." Sherlock glanced at his phone. "It's 6:00 and we have a 6:30 reservation."

"All right, all right. I'll get going. Have a good time on your date, dearies." She started heading towards the door. As she got to her destination, she quickly turned around and snapped a picture. Afterwards, she turned back around, threw open the door, and then exited the flat. 

I looked over at Sherlock. We both started laughing hysterically. 

"She definitely has a good deal of energy for an older woman," I said through fits of laughter. That only caused Sherlock to laugh even harder. 

After a few moments, he was finally able to speak. "We should get going, John."

"Okay."

Sherlock headed to the still open door of the flat. I followed close behind him. He turned around. "Are you nervous?" I just shook my head no. "Good." Sherlock grabbed my hand and started to run. We ran out the doorway and started sprinting down the stairs. 

"Sherlock! What about the door?"

"Mrs. Hudson will close it!"

We continued to run. We ran down to the bottom and opened up the door to the outside world. The London streets were still bustling about. 

Sherlock slowed down to a normal walking pace. "So where are we going?" I asked him. 

"You'll see when we get there."

I glanced down at the sidewalk. At that moment, I realized I was still holding hands with Sherlock. 'Should I let go?' I asked myself. 'If he wanted to, he would have already.' I just left our hands as they were. I certainly didn't mind, and Sherlock didn't seem to either. 

I smiled and kept walking. "Are you sure you aren't going to tell me?" 

"Positive. That would just ruin the surprise." 

"Fine, fine. I see how it is." We kept walking through the maze of people and streets. We came to a cross walk. I didn't even bother looking both ways. I just walked. 

"JOHN!" I heard Sherlock shout. I was hit by a strong force and was knocked out of the way. I hit the ground with a hard impact. I got up and saw little pieces of the blacktop in my hands. 

I turned around and my heart dropped back down to the ground. Sherlock was lying on the ground, surrounded and covered in his own blood. The car that hit him wasn't even there. It must have sped off. 

I ran to Sherlock. Bystanders were starting to surround him. I held up his wrist. I tried to find a pulse and was unsuccessful. 

Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective was dead.


	11. Eleven

I was in utter shock. In the past two days, the two people I've ever loved past away; both from the same cause. 

Now that I think about it, Mrs. Hudson was right. Mary was just a distraction. She was distracting me from the one thing I really wanted, Sherlock. 

I had always had feelings for him, I just suppressed them. I didn't think Sherlock would ever feel the same way. When Mary came along, I thought my world was somewhat coming back together. Sure, my feelings for Sherlock bubbled up every once in a while, but with Mary my feelings were stronger. 

I started walking away from Sherlock's lifeless corpse. I couldn't handle the wave of emotion that was crashing over me. I was so shocked and so upset, and yet, I wasn't crying. There was one thing that kept crossing over my mind. One idea that I couldn't stop thinking about, and I was about to allow it to take over.

I felt like a zombie walking back to the flat I used to share with Sherlock. It would be vacant soon. Someone new would have to rent it out. Maybe it will be a nice family of three, with a dog. Mrs. Hudson loves dogs. 

I came to the door of 221B Baker Street. Opening it, I prepared myself for what I was about to do. I wasn't afraid at all. In actuality, I was ready. I feel like it was something I should have done a while ago. 

I walked up the steps to the door of the flat. When I reached it, the door was still open. 'I guess Sherlock was wrong. Mrs. Hudson didn't close the door.' 

I entered the flat and something was wrong. The window was open and the curtains were fluttering in the small breeze outside. Right away, I could tell some of our stuff was stolen. The TV, mine and Sherlock's laptops, and various other items. How those robbers managed to steal the TV during this busy time of night, I have no idea. I didn't care and I definitely wasn't too worried. 

I just left the crime scene and walked to the bathroom. I shut the door behind me. The last time I almost did this, Sherlock stopped me. Now, I'll have no one to stop me from succeeding. 

I opened up the medicine cabinet and took out the pill bottle. This morning, I was shaking like a loose leaf in the wind. Now, I was stiff as a board. I was ready to do this and I wasn't going to let any doubt consume me. 

I opened the pill bottle and stared at its contents. I poured a handful of the white pills into my hand. I took a deep breath and popped a couple into my mouth. I swallowed and readied the next few. When that handful was gone, I poured another handful into my hand and continued until the bottle was emptied. I sat down on the ground, waiting for the inevitable. 

After a few minutes, my vision started to go black. I started shaking and I tilted over, causing me to lie down on my side. Afterwards, my vision went black, and then there was nothing.


End file.
